After a while her mother whispered: 'I was lonely and it was Christmas - so I came.'
'I'm glad, glad, glad!' Gillian cried.
Her mother held her away from her to search her eyes for the truth. 'Then I may stay?
'This is your home!'
'Sure?'
'Sure! Let me show you something. You com$ too, Madelisa.' She took her mother's hand and drew her to the lounge. Madelisa following after them with her cumbersome steps. At the arched entrance Gillian said: 'Close your eyes.' She led her mother to the hearth. 'Now open!'
.Mrs! McBride stared at the painted portrait of herself, while Gillian watched the fleeting emotions pass over the still beautiful face; amazement, nostalgia, regret, then joy and wonderment.
'The place of honour. See?' said the daughter.
' Yes, I see. It's too good to be true.'
Gillian turned to the now smiling Madelisa. 'Tell the taximan to bring in the luggage.' To her mother she said: 'Let me take you to your room.'
'Why, child, you've worked wonders with this old dump! Even I could be happy to live here.. This is indeed a lovely bedroom! It's almost as if you expected me, what with the bed made, the pitcher filled and the towels put out. I feel at home already.'
'We're having a Christmas party tomorrow night.'
'Oh, lovely! Darling, do me a favour.'
'Yes?'
'Keep my presence a secret. Being an actress, I'd like to make a spectacular entrance.' . 'That's fine. But I must warn you, Graham will be in and out.' The older woman's face blanched. 'He's helping with the arrangements.'
'I'll hide.'
A little frown puckered between the girl's brows. 'Oh, dear!' she cried, distressed. 'Whatever will you wear?'
Her mother gave her a quizzical look. 'Don't worry about me, precious. I never travel without my glad rags.'
'Oh, I didn't mean.... You see, it's supposed to be a fancy dress show, and there's so little time....'
'I see. Strange — our farewell party here, twelve years ago, was a fancy dress too.' She patted Gillian's flushed cheek with a shapely hand. 'Leave it to me, my pet. I'll unearth something - maybe the very same costume.' Turning to Madelisa, who appeared in the doorway with the luggage, she said: 'Are my old trunks still in the land of the living, Madelisa?'
'Yes, Missy Ginny.'
'Darling, could you spare Madelisa for me for a few moments?'
Gillian felt a sudden tension. 'Oh, Mother, please! Don't even ask. This is your home. Madelisa was your servant before she ever was mine. Please, please take over!'
'Now listen, Gillian!' Her mother spoke almost sternly. 'This could become quite a tricky situation, and it's best if we confront it right here and now. You are mistress of this house; I'm your guest; let's keep it that way. Okay? In any case,' she added, 'I may stay for only a few days.'
'Oh no!' Gillian's disappointment was genuine.
'Well, we'll see,' her mother pacified her smilingly. 'It all depends.'
'On what?'
'We'll talk about that later. I'll pay the taximan now. You get the box room keys, Madelisa.'
'Oh, Mother!' Gillian called after her.
In the doorway, Mrs. McBride turned. 'What is it?'
'I have a confession to make.'
'Oh no, please!'
'I did a terrible thing.'
'What could be so terrible?'
'I cut up your karakul cape for a fuzzy wig for my Swazi costume.' Her rueful little face looked so comical that her mother broke into peals of silvery laughter. Suddenly it all seemed so funny that Gillian and Madelisa joined in, the boxroom keys in Madelisa's hands jingling with them. They laughed till the tears ran.
Miraculously the atmosphere was cleared.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was Christmas Eve.
The tree sparkled, the decorations glittered and strains of dance music floated softly towards the terrace, where Graham, in his powdered wig and magnificent garb of a French aristocrat, stood at Gillian's side to welcome the guests to the Impala Ranch.
'You look gorgeous, Graham!' She appraised him with shining eyes. 'Wherever did you find this superb costume?'
A note of nostalgia crept into his voice. 'Strange,' he reminisced, 'your mother imported it with hers for the farewell party your parents gave shortly before they left Swaziland.'
The terrace and lounge were filling up with gaily apparelled partygoers. With oohs and ahs and merry laughter they admired and exclaimed upon one another's fanciful creations.
The pale, velvety skin of Gillian's face and bare shoulders glowed above the vermilion mahaya swathed round her graceful young figure. The beaded amulet around her gleaming white neck, the thick colourful bands of beads encircling her wrists and arms and the anklets above her bare feet added witchery and authenticity to the costume. The black beehive of fuzzy hair, banded with beadwork, accentuated the dark eyebrows and thickly fringed lashes. Stuck above one ear was a red feather, which the young cowherd had brought her, bearing it in a cleft bamboo stick as was the custom when presenting a not-to-be-soiled missive from a chieftain. A symbol of royal blood, it was in keeping with her regal bearing.
For a moment Graham and Gillian were alone together on the terrace. His arm stole round her waist and he pressed her understandingly to his side. 'Darling,' he said softly, 'if Eve and Dirk should, by any chance, spring a surprise announcement on us this evening, and you realize the hopelessness of your love for him, just remember this: I'm here and my offer of marriage stands.' He smiled into her eyes, then said, half-jokingly, half-seriously, 'We could even declare a double engagement.'
Before she could reply, a long black chauffeur- driven car drew up and two handsome Swazi men, resplendent in sheik costumes, stepped out. They helped their dusky partners in veiled Eastern dress out of the limousine. Graham introduced his friends, the District Commissioner and Chief of Police and their wives, to her.
She bade the group a hearty welcome, and accompanied .them inside.
Where were Eve and Dirk? she wondered. Would they come? Had Graham invited them? She had been reluctant to ask. Yet from Graham's remark a moment before, it would seem that he expected them. Just then, through the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Dirk, attractively masculine in a striking torero costume. He sported a red feather of the lori bird in his black Spanish hat and it caught her instant attention. Eyes were turned in admiration towards him as he entered dramatically and adroitly swirled a red cloth before an imaginary bull. Spontaneously the crowd clapped.
Eve was not with him.
Madelisa's head appeared round the archway, to give Gillian the prearranged signal. A quick whisper to the bandmaster from Gillian, a clash of cymbals and a hush fell upon the room.
'Ladies and gentlemen!' the bandleader announced theatrically. Gillian watched Graham's puzzled expression 'as he stood in the doorway leading to the terrace - something was afoot beyond his ken. 'It is my great pleasure to announce the presence here tonight of someone whom I, and many of you, knew and loved many years ago. We are happy to welcome back in our midst our well-remembered friend, Ginny McBride!'
With that Gillian's mother, exquisite as Marie Antoinette, flowed gracefully into the room amidst the cheers and shouts of the revellers. While old acquaintances and friends thronged round her, the band played: 'For she's a jolly good fellow' and the crowd sang lustily. Graham, grown ashen grey, slipped into the night, unnoticed by all except Gillian, who hurried after him. He was striding towards his cottage. 'Graham!' Her cry went unheeded. She ran barefooted after him, unmindful of the duweltjies pricking with their spiky edges the tender soles of her feet. 'Graham, please!' She overtook him and caught at his sleeve, forcing him to make a stop, and in the light of the moon she saw that his face was gaunt with misery.
'Why have you done this to me?' His voice was thick with reproach.
'Please believe me, it's none of my doing. She arrived out of the blue last evening, and made me promise to keep her presence a
secret.'
He gave her an angry stare and would have continued on his way to the cottage, but she stood in his path, her detaining hands pressing urgently against the lace nestling against his throat. She looked searchingly into his blue eyes. 'Why are you so upset?' she demanded. 'I don't understand. You told me once that your love for me was possibly a sublimation of your love for her. Then what disturbs you so violently? Tell me!'
'You're a woman - a child at that - you can't understand.'
White-hot anger flashed through her. 'I'm no child!' she cried in sudden fury, beating her fists against his satined breast. As suddenly as it came, her anger vanished and she placed a consoling hand against his smooth-shaven cheek. 'I think I do understand,' she said softly. 'Moments ago, you repeated your offer of marriage to me. Now the woman you've never stopped loving, the woman who has followed you to the ends of the earth, suddenly reappears - a distressing situation, I know, but distressing only if I happen to return your love and hope to marry you. But I don't, you see. I've told you that before. I was going to tell you again when the Swazis arrived. I love you as a dear friend, Graham darling, without the passion a husband has the right to demand. I shall never marry you, not though a thousand Dirks spurn my love. You're free, Graham, free! It's my mother you love, and your offer of marriage to me is cancelled and will always remain my closest secret, as I trust it will always remain yours.' For a long while she stood, her eyes on his face, willing him to see it her way.
Graham cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed her lips.
On the terrace, she saw Dirk. He was smoking and watching them as they stood revealed in the half light of the waning moon.
'You're sweet, Gillian,' she heard Graham murmur, 'unutterably sweet, and I believe your words are sincere.' I want to retract what I said about you — you're no child, my dear, but a great-hearted, understanding woman.' lie laughed whimsically. 'I don't promise to become your stepfather. At the moment I'm confused, I need to sort myself out. But it will be easier now. Thank you, my dear.'
'Stay here,' she urged. 'I'll bring my mother to you. You should meet away from all those curious eyes.'
' I'll wait for her in the cottage.'
When she returned to the house, the gay medley of costumed figures were whirling around in a Paul Jones. While the women began circling around clockwise, and the men walked anti-clockwise, she caught her mother's laughing eyes and beckoned her out of the circle. The music changed once more, and Gillian saw Dirk by-pass several beautiful, expectant faces and make a dash for Eve's arm.
Her mother's face was suddenly anxious. 'What is it?'
'Come with me.'
'Where's Graham? I've not seen him.'
'In the cottage. Waiting for you.'
'So you know?'
'Graham told me.' She accompanied her mother into the sweet-smelling, exotic garden, then turned back.
'Cross your fingers,' her mother whispered naughtily over an elegant shoulder.
As Gillian neared the hedge screening the cottage, a tall figure stepped from the shadow, and a startled cry escaped her lips. It was the handsome torero.
'What do you want?' Her voice was a mere whisper.
'Don't tell me you don't know,' Dirk mocked. 'And don't tell me it isn't the same thing that you want.'
She stood before him with the dignity almost of a royal Swazi princess. 'Let me pass, please!' Her heart was pounding against her ribs, but her voice was stony. With a swift movement he tweaked the red feather from her wig; more slowly he removed the small quill from his flat-topped Spanish hat. He placed the two lori feathers carefully next to each other in his palm, and closed his fingers over them almost as if it were a ritual. 'These two red feathers grew side by side on the same beautiful lori. It's symbolical. They belong together, like you and me.'
'That's untrue!' she defied him, though her heart denied the words. 'A cowherd gave me mine.'
'He got it from me.' He slipped the feathers into his pocket. His arms stole round her waist and he felt her tremble. 'Gillian darling,' he said huskily, 'I want you.' His lips crushed her flower-like mouth, and she was as clay in the potter's hands. Her stormy heart cried out to her to surrender, but her mind rang a warning that her defences were crumbling. Tonight, she must save herself. Summoning the last ounce of strength and resistance, she wrenched herself free.
'Womanizer!' she cried accusingly. 'Devil!' and struck out with her fists. He caught her slender wrists in a grip of steel, stretching her arms wide, thus forcing her soft, violently-resisting body against the whipcord muscles of his chest and thighs.
At last she stood, spent and helpless, against him, her cheek pressed against him, and the blood pulsing heavily through her veins. He dropped her wrists and encircled her quivering body with his strong arms. 'I shall take what I want,' he threatened, his eyes on her face; then his voice grew gentle. 'But not illicitly, and not against your will. I'm asking you to marry me.' The utter astonishment in her upturned face made him chuckle softly. 'Yes, my beautiful little white Swazi princess, I love you better than my own soul. Life without you is torture.'
Still she could not believe. Hope and despair warred in her heart. 'But Eve,' she whispered. 'You love Eve.'
'Do I?' he teased. 'No, my fierce little tigress, it's you I love. No one but you. Eve has known that for a long time.'
'B-but she's always flirting with you.'
'I know. It's her game. She's in league with me. She thinks her attentions will drive you into my arms.'
'Don't lie to me, Dirk!' she cried brokenly. 'Eve loves you. It's true, isn't it?'
'Maybe, but I've told her that I love you. She's seriously considering Baron von Moltitz' offer of marriage.''
'Baron von Moltitz?'
'My neighbour on the far side, and your guest tonight. Eve brought him. Didn't she introduce him to you? Very remiss!'
'Eve arrived late. There hasn't been the opportunity. Is he the big man in Cossack costume?'
'It's his national dress. He's Russian. Well, do you still doubt?'
'The nights Eve spent with you? I saw her car.'
'Not with me,' he said. 'With the Baron, duly chaperoned by his very correct and aristocratic old mother. Is the inquisition over?'
'One thing more. After you'd made love to me at Eve's, why were you so cold at the Spa?'
'Why did you not wear my gift of rosebuds?' He tweaked her shell-like ear admonishingly.
At last she believed.
She lifted her face to be kissed, and this time there was no rebuff. Tenderly, almost reverently, he caressed her lips with his. 'Say it, my love,' he whispered beseechingly. 'Say it! Please!'
'Oh, Dirk,' she sighed, starry-eyed, 'I love you ... love you.'
'And I thought you hated me, that you loathed my touch, that you cared for Graham. Tonight, when I saw him kiss you . .. you'll never know my feelings of that moment. I followed you and your mother to the cottage. When you returned alone I remembered the old romance, and in a flash I knew the truth - about them - about you. Oh, Gillian!'
Moments passed as their lips clung together, but when he began to sense the passion that was being unleashed within them, he gently removed her arms from around his neck. 'That will be all for tonight,' he sighed regretfully. 'Go back to your guests, and for heaven's sake, woman, stay out of my clutches till we've got the marriage lines!' He took the crushed feathers from his pocket, preened them with a shapely finger and replaced one above her ear, the other in his hatband. With firm hands on her shoulders he turned her towards the light streaming from the house and gave her a gentle push. Then he lit a cigarette with a slightly shaking hand.
She entered the lounge alone, and radiantly happy. Immediately the young Frenchman claimed her for a dance, and for the first time that night she could abandon herself to the enjoyment and merriment of what was turning out to be a most successful Christmas party for all.
After dancing with her, Monsieur Franc led her to his mother - a delightful, cultu
red old lady. In no time they became friends. Eve, startlingly beautiful and seductive as Cleopatra, came up to her to introduce the Baron - a strong, bearlike, masculine man with compassionate eyes. She liked him immediately. Graham and Ginny entered with faces that told their own story. Dirk put in an appearance just as dinner was being announced.
As if by magic, Graham's professional waiters had erected a long trestle table on the terrace. A profusion of flowers spilled from the central floral piece on to the gleaming, white damask cloth. Amongst glittering cutlery and buckets of champagne on ice, a smorgasbord of palatable fish dishes, sucking pig, turkey and a host of delicious foods was arranged.
The guests surged around the table to fill their plates. Crackers were pulled and paper hats were donned amidst general merriment. When this course was finished, the empty plates and remaining foods were whisked away to make room for the desserts and confectioneries.
Gillian insisted that Madelisa, immaculate in an extra-outsize white uniform and snow-white doek draped around her head, carry the blazing Christmas pudding to the guests outside. A wave of applause greeted her and the kindly old face beamed with gratification.
Gillian was standing next to Dirk when he discovered the little silver ring in his slice of Christmas pudding. Unnoticed, he slipped it on her ring finger.
All too soon it was midnight. The band struck up with 'Auld Lang Syne'. A circle was formed, hands were clasped and throats sang lustily. After that there were cries of 'Merry Christmas!' and kissing became general. Gillian's heart missed a beat as Eve's lips seemed to cling desperately to Dirk's, but over Cleopatra's queenly head, his warm gaze was for Gillian and she felt reassured.
Never had she known such happiness as when much later she snuggled into bed, hugging her secret close.
CHAPTER NINE
Gillian was about to put out the, light when her mother, looking vivacious in an elegant blue negligee, came into the bedroom. Her daughter stretched out a welcoming hand to her.
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